Running Wild
762 Words
Chapter Eight: Running Wild
The moon hung low, swollen and cruel.
Aria’s breaths came sharp and uneven as she darted through the twisted forest, branches clawing at her skin.
The bond throbbed painfully—Lucien’s presence like wildfire in her veins.
Behind her, the low growl of pursuit grew louder.
Lucien.
Relentless.
She wasn’t sure if she ran from him—or toward something she couldn’t name.
---
“Aria!” His voice sliced through the cold night air.
“Stop!” But she didn’t.
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Her wolf flared beneath her skin, claws scraping the earth as she pushed harder.
She stumbled—fell—felt the sharp sting of pain, but rose again.
Lucien was closer now—his shadow a dark thunder behind her.
When he caught her, it wasn’t with the brutality she’d feared.
His hands trembled as they closed around her wrists.
“I’m not your enemy,” he gasped.
She shook her head, defiant.
“Then why do you chase me like a hunter?”
His eyes softened, the beast within tangled with something fiercely human.
“Because you’re mine,” he said.
She looked up—into those gold flames—and saw something she hadn’t before:
Fear.
Of losing her.
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The chase slowed.
Lucien pulled her into the hollow of a great oak.
His breath was ragged, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“You’re running from the bond, but it’s binding us together.”
Aria’s heart thundered—not from fear, but from the sudden, fierce longing between them.
Her hands trembled as they rested on his chest.
“What if I don’t want to be bound?” she whispered.
His eyes darkened.
“Then I’ll burn for us both.”
---
The night held its breath.
And for a moment, predator and prey were no longer separate.
They were two halves of a dangerous whole—wild, wounded, and burning bright beneath the moonlight.
The Second Bond
The moon dipped behind thick clouds, casting the world in shadows and silver whispers.
Lucien’s private chamber was heavy with the scent of burning cedar and something far more primal—desire.
Aria stood at the window, her silhouette lit by the fractured moonlight.
He watched her—the way her body tensed and released, fierce and fragile all at once.
His hands itched to claim her—not with violence, but with a desperate tenderness.
The bond between them had shifted. The first bite was anger, fire, control.
This one—this was something different.
He crossed the room silently, stopping behind her.
His breath warmed the shell of her ear.
“Aria.”
She didn’t turn.
Her voice was a whisper, cracked with uncertainty.
“What happens if I lose myself in you?”
Lucien’s fingers traced her jaw, tilting her face to meet his gaze.
“Then we lose ourselves together.”
The air between them thickened.
He pressed a slow, searing kiss to her neck—the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his lips driving him wild.
Her breath hitched.
A sharp intake that broke through the walls she’d built.
Lucien’s hands slid down her arms, anchoring her.
“Let me in,” he murmured.
Her eyes closed.
The beast within them stirred, hunger rising like a storm.
Clothes fell away piece by piece, a silent surrender.
Their skin met—electric, desperate.
Lucien’s hands mapped every curve, every scar, every fragile edge.
Aria responded in kind—fierce and yielding, a tangle of fire and shadow.
Their bodies moved together, a dance as old as time.
Each touch, each kiss, a promise and a warning.
The bond pulsed—an unseen thread weaving tighter between them.
He kissed her fiercely, claiming her lips with a hunger that was more than physical.
“It’s not just flesh,” he growled. “It’s soul.”
Her hands tangled in his hair.
“Then don’t let go.”
They fell together onto the silken sheets.
Lucien’s mouth trailed from her collarbone down, worshipping the skin his bite had marked.
Aria gasped—part pain, part pleasure—a volatile mix.
He bit again, softer this time, a whisper of possession and protection.
Her nails dug into his back, grounding them both.
In the flicker of candlelight, their shadows danced—wolf and fire entwined.
As dawn threatened the horizon, they lay tangled, breathless.
No promises spoken—just the unspoken truth of the second bond:
They were bound, not by chains—but by choice, by need, by something fierce and wild.
- Writer
